“Well said, good man,” replied the queen.  “The abbey may one day have need of my assistance, and then I will remember this.”

There was an immense crowd in the abbey church at the espousals of Tiennette, to whom the queen presented a wedding dress, and whom the king authorized to wear earrings and jewels.  When the handsome couple came from the abbey to the lodgings of Anseau, who had become a serf, near St. Leu, there were torches at the windows to sec them pass, and in the street two lines of people, as at a royal progress.  The poor husband had wrought a silver bracelet, which he wore upon his left arm, in token of his belonging to the abbey of St. Germain.  Then, notwithstanding his servitude, they cried, “Noel, Noel!” as to a new king.  And the good man saluted courteously, happy as a lover, and pleased with the homage each one paid to the grace and modesty of Tiennette.  Then the good goldsmith found green branches, and a crown of bluettes on his doorposts, and the principal persons of the quarter were all there, who, to do him honor, saluted him with music, and cried out, “You will always be a noble man, in spite of the abbey!”

Tiennette was delighted with her handsome lodgings, and the crowd of customers who came and went, delighted with her charms.  The honey-moon passed, there came one day, in great pomp, old abbot Hugo, their lord and master, who entered the house, which belonged no more to the goldsmith, but to the chapter, and, being there, said to the newly married pair: 

“My children, you are free, and quit of all claims on the part of the abbey.  And I must tell you that, from the first, I was greatly moved with the love which linked you to each other.  Thus, the rights of the abbey having been recognized, I determined to complete your joy, after having proved your loyalty.  And this manumission shall cost you nothing.”

Having said this, he touched them lightly on the cheeks, and they kneeled at his feet and wept for joy.  The goldsmith apprised the people who had collected in the street of the bounty and blessing of the good abbot Hugo.  Then, in great honor, Anseau held the bridle of his mare, as far as the gate of Bussy.  On the way, having taken a sack of money with him, he threw the pieces to the poor and suffering, crying: 

“Largesse! largesse to God!  God save and guard the abbey!  Long live the good Lord Hugo!”

The abbot, of course, was severely reproached by his chapter, who had opened their jaws to devour the rich booty.  Thus, a year afterwards, the good man Hugo falling sick, his prior told him that it was a punishment of Heaven, because he had neglected their sacred interests.

“If I judge this man aright,” replied the abbot, “he will remember what he owes us.”

In fact, this day happening to be the anniversary of the marriage, a monk came to announce that the goldsmith begged his benefactor to receive him.  When he appeared in the hall where the abbot was, he displayed two marvellous caskets, which, from that time, no workman has surpassed in any place of the Christian world, and which were called “the vow of perseverance in love.”  These two treasures are, as every one knows, placed on the high altar of the church; and are judged to be of inestimable workmanship, since the goldsmith had expended all he had on them.